


Taking Care

by Unforgotten



Category: Love Simon (2018)
Genre: Blow Jobs, First Time, Hand Jobs, M/M, Movie Compliant But Not Book Compliant, Post-Movie
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-25
Updated: 2018-03-25
Packaged: 2019-04-07 19:07:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,588
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14087673
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Unforgotten/pseuds/Unforgotten
Summary: The thing Simon loves most about Bram is his carefulness, in bed and out of it.





	Taking Care

**Author's Note:**

> I saw this movie again tonight, and it was _even better_ the second time! The audience response was also way better seeing it on a Saturday night than during a Thursday matinee, lol. I love the experience of seeing a movie I love with an audience of people who seem to be as invested as I am.  <3
> 
> I've seen a lot of people tagging with both the book and the movie, so I have a feeling other people might be book fans who are writing for both the book and the movie. So just fyi, while I _might_ read the book eventually, for now all my fics are based solely on the movie, and should not be expected to be compliant with book canon.

Out of everything about Bram, all the big and small things that make him who he is, the thing Simon loves the most about him is his carefulness. It's in everything he does: every movement and decision he makes, every word he says or writes. It's not exactly caution, though that's part of it; it's not really control, either. It's just that when Bram says or does almost anything, it's because he's thought it over and decided it's what he wants. No matter how quickly things happen after he decides, even if Simon is almost dizzy from going from one thing to the next, Bram never takes a step without considering it first.

It's Simon who kisses Bram, the first time and the second and the third. After that, he started worrying that maybe he's taking things a little fast, asking for more than Bram wants to give—but the next day, Bram kisses him first, slow and sweet and sure against Simon's locker, until the warning bell rings and they have to separate if they don't want to be late for homeroom.

A few weeks later, they go out for dinner on a Friday night. Their first "real" date, and it's so easy to be with Bram the rest of the time that Simon's a little surprised at how damp his palms are all evening, how anxious he is that something might go wrong. But nothing does, and after they've tiptoed up the dark stairway to Simon's room, Bram kisses him back with ease, like a decision already made, hours or days ago. And when they're lying together on the bed, pressed close together and kissing and kissing, desire centering below the waist and pulsing through Simon's whole body, it's Bram who slips his hand under the hem of Simon's shirt. It's Bram who fumbles Simon's fly open, Bram who wraps his hand around Simon's dick, kissing him and pumping him and kissing him, and before Simon can even think about reciprocating, he's coming too hard to think about anything for a few minutes. So he's not thinking when he shoves Bram's jeans down to his knees, and he's not thinking when he rucks Bram's shirt all the way up to his nipples, but by the time he starts kissing his way down Bram's chest, he knows exactly what he wants to happen now.

"What are you doing?" Bram asks, breathless. "Not that I'm complaining."

Simon's already figured out that Bram thought he was going with this. And it's not like there's anything _wrong_ with mutual hand jobs, especially since he's just found out how amazing even a one-sided hand job can be. But Bram is so flushed right now, and his breathing so ragged. His fully erect dick twitches every time Simon's hand gets anywhere near it. Of all the daydream's Simon has had—and there have been a _lot_ —the one he's had the most often involves him on his knees.

"I want to blow you," he says, and he kisses the rest of the way down while Bram thinks about it, warm sloppy kisses to Bram's chest, his stomach, and further down, too, where there's a trail of coarse hair leading somewhere Simon can't help but want to go. But as much as he wants Bram in his mouth, he stops there for a moment, to give him the time to be careful, to give him a chance to decide. "I've been practicing."

"—Practicing?"

Simon spent years being careful himself, but ever since they started emailing each other, he keeps finding himself saying things without thinking them through. He's already regretting this, but there's not really any way to walk back this confession. "Uh, yeah. Not with someone else or anything like that, though. I've been practicing with, uh. I've been practicing with a cucumber."

It's not that he thought they'd be doing this anytime soon, but he knew they would eventually, if they stayed together long enough to get this far. He'd thought about stealing a banana, but they ones in the fruit bowl all had brown spots, and probably wouldn't have been sturdy enough. Not to mention that, between a banana and a cucumber, a banana really did _look_ more suspiciously like a penis. (It hadn't occurred to him that, between the two, he couldn't really get away with saying he'd taken the cucumber to his room for a midnight snack. It did eventually occur to him when the cucumber disappeared from his room around the time his dad came in to take his laundry hamper downstairs. He's not sure what miracle has kept his dad from bringing it up at every opportunity, except that maybe he still feels bad for not psychically deducing Simon's gayness.)

Bram thinks about it for a few seconds, then laughs, a delayed reaction of the kind Simon's been finding more and more adorable. "Okay," he says. "Since you've been practicing and everything."

Simon already knows he has a gag reflex, which none of the guys in porn ever seem to, so he doesn't try to take all of him in at once. Instead, he wraps his lips around the head of Bram's dick, first, just tasting him. He tastes like salt and sweat and skin, and Simon slides his mouth a little further down Bram's length, trying to figure out how much of him will fit. Once he thinks he's got it, he starts bobbing his head up and down, and this isn't really anything like the cucumber at all. This is something that's making him hot all over, something that's going straight to his dick even though he just came a few minutes ago.

And when he thinks he's gotten the hang of it enough to look up at Bram's face, it's something that has him hard again in an instant. Bram's head is thrown back, his Adam's apple bobbing as he takes in hitching breaths. One of his hands is fisted in the bedspread, and the other is over his mouth. He's so quiet, so careful even now that it takes a minute for Simon to be sure what he's saying—

"Oh my God, oh my God," over and over, and Simon's pretty sure that Bram, careful Bram, who never says a single word he hasn't turned over and over in his mind...he's pretty sure Bram has no idea what he's saying, doesn't mean to be saying anything at all. He's the most beautiful thing Simon's ever seen, and Simon gets to be the one making him look like that.

Then Bram takes his hand away from his mouth, and says, "Simon, I'm going to," and his dick jerks in Simon's mouth. Simon's not expecting it, and so although he manages to swallow some of Bram's come—it tastes salty, like seawater, which was not what he expected somehow—some dribbles out of his mouth. He ends up coughing a little, and grabs a water bottle off the ledge to help soothe his throat, and drinks until the water's gone. He wipes his mouth on his shirt.

"I swear I wasn't trying to kill you," says Bram, looking concerned and amused, more the former than the latter now that the coughing's stopped.

"I know."

Looking at him like this still takes Simon's breath away—his shirt's still rucked up to his chest, his pants and underwear still around his knees. His breathing is slowing now, his dick softening against his thigh, every line of his body relaxing like he's melting into the bed. Simon can't help but crawl up until they're lying side by side again, close enough to kiss, and he does that, too. It doesn't occur to him until he's done it that Bram'll be tasting himself—but it probably did occur to Bram, and he doesn't resist at all, even moaning when he opens his mouth for Simon.

Just a few minutes later, Bram wraps his hand around Simon's dick, and that's how Simon remembers he's ready again, that he's been ready again for a while now. Bram strokes him, not as quickly or tightly as he did the first time. The pleasure is slower this time, a steady build instead of a lightning strike, and seems like it could last forever.

Then Bram says—and he must have thought about it carefully, because he always, always thinks his words through before he says them, leaving no layer of meaning to chance or interpretation if he can help it— "I guess I'm going to have to find my own cucumber to practice with."

A second ago, Simon thought he was going to last forever, but Bram's barely finished speaking before he's coming again, spurting white over Bram's fingers.

"Is that your way of saying you approve of my plan?"

"Yeah," Simon says, and once he's caught his breath, he leans over to kiss Bram again. He knows he'll never get tired of kissing him, no matter how many other things they find to do. "Yeah, I think I'm probably okay with that."

It's not even so much the idea of Bram blowing him in return as it is the idea of him thinking about it it, planning it. Simon doesn't know how he's going to survive _knowing_ Bram's practicing, that he's turning it over and over in his mind until he's sure he knows how he wants it to be.

Waiting for it to happen is going to be like torture, but Simon's going to love it, all the same.


End file.
